Harmony
by p1nk
Summary: And yet to become unworthy because of war, to become unworthy because of duty. The princess and the soldier, he did not wish to become tangled within her world and yet she came to be the center of his.


Author's Note: A little AU one shot I wrote while listening to Kokia- Harmony. I actually replayed, paused and fast-forwarded in order to make the story flow along with the song. Yea I have no life.

Disclaimer:I do not own Gundam Wing for I am just a penniless writer who has nothing better to do than daydream of scenarios for cartoons. Oh no, I'm not bitter. Enjoy

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He stands on a cliff staring pensively out into the white abyss. Tiny snowflakes fall quietly at his feet and he remains unmoved. Deep Prussian eyes have gone cold and lost almost as if in a somber trance. Tiny trickles of blood run slowly down against the side of his face and his right hand rests weakly on the hilt of his sword. Shaggy strands of his dark brown hair blow softly yet his expression remains solid as if etched in stone.

His ravaged cape floats gently, against the air that brings the stale scent of decaying flesh, of the iron smell of blood. Muscles tense, jaw clenches, a slight frown creases his brow. And yet he cannot experience anger. The clang of metal resonates unconsciously, the fountain of blood, the heavy sound of the fall. Who is this beast, the dormant animal within his being? This monster capable of judgment: life or eternal rest. What is he allowed, what is he denied? To feel this abandonment, to feel this emptiness, inside rests a heavy burden.

This punishment he must carry throughout his days. Where will this road lead, this new path he must forge to escape the one he has ploughed. The road forged with the sharp blade of his sword, the revenge that consumed his heart, the bitterness that cut through the softness of innocence. The happiness blotched out with the droplets of blood spilled. He could not hide. In his mind he prays that he may convey at least one millionth of this feeling, if not through his words, but through his actions. Would she have ever come to understand? Would she have ever come to know? He is scarred, never to be whole again.

The beautiful, sad story of a child forced into violence, thriving on power, losing his way and ultimately losing his humanity as he grew. He moves slightly, snow crunching beneath his mud-caked boots. The hand tightens around the sword-hilt. He struggles against this feeling that weighs him down. Worn and tired, he does not wish to rest. Taking in the air, still yet he feels suffocated. He wishes to deny this turmoil, this confusion, and this coldness that seeps in through his skin. The war he faced, nothing compared to the war inside that he runs from.

Far below and somewhere deep inside, he remembers the dream…

_ At the edge she stands, moist grass under her pale feet, the black mist hovering above the black water. Swans drift along the water, ethereal beings amongst the night. The silence: the only sound in the cold air. She lifts her head to take in the purple abyss of the sky and a chill creeps up her spine. He grips her hand gently and she turns her face, glittering sea blue pierces molten Prussian. Somehow this feels right, this journey they are about to undertake. Is he running? Or is this the life he has chosen? The destiny granted to him from the moment the sword was placed in his steady hand. He feels like himself within her presence. The simple way she gazes at him with her quiet strength. _

The last of his army, the only living soldier scarred from the battle of savage men yet fighting a losing battle within. Where will he turn to next? Was there ever a place where he could have belonged? An existence that does not pain him. A place where he can remember. A place where he can be who he once was. He slowly runs his eyes over the once lush green land that has now been swallowed by the sea of white. He is envious of the earth. So powerful that it can slowly drift and replenish itself…something he has not yet learned. The will to preserve remains steady but is slowly dying.

_ The warrior and the pacifist. Will you walk with me? A silent question and with squared shoulders and an iron resolve, they move forward. Her slim legs submerges in ice cold liquid, his grip never wavers. Flocks of swans escape across the rippling water. Their figures statuesque amidst the endless flow of wings. Feathers whirl carelessly, caressing the surface and still they move onward, into the shallows._

Flashes of blood, terrified eyes, hallow screams and whispered prayers crawl into his mind like a wave of torment and his expression shifts slightly. He blinks and his eyes soften as he lifts his head to the gray sky. Translucent clouds move as if they carry heavy hearts. Memories lost, never to be renewed. What can he hold on to? He is divided. War and love, where will he lie? He can never find her again. The silence overwhelms him and he falls to his knees, palms crushing the snow as he struggles to hold back tears that have long been withheld.

_ Time gradually slows down as he closes his eyes, allowing sensations to overcome him. He reaches out to feel her face and he presses close. Black tresses float around him, whispering against his skin, her silken gown floats as they fall slowly, deeper into the dark void. Even through the ice cold he can feel slight warmth within the pit of his stomach. He clings to the sensation, reveling in it, trying to make it last. When will he feel this way again? He can see her vaguely and he pulls her near, not wishing to lose her within the madness. Faster and faster they twirl, in the confusion of bubbles and clear water. He releases his fear, his burden dissipates and he finds that can finally let go. He is pushed around, tossed to and fro and the warmth is gone. The coldness is eminent now and he cannot breathe. He does not know where to turn, as he blindly reaches for her hand that has slipped from his. She moves away from him, the water in muddles around them. _

With each life taken, he marred his own.

_ Above them, above the lake, the cold, fading moon, peers out from pale clouds. Faint traces of the sound of swans cut deep into the quiet. The world is oblivious to the light of two lives that are flickering out, one wishing to rest an eternal rest, the other a partner in his quest. The gaze of the all seeing moon hard and unforgiving as it watches their dance of death. To fall endlessly, to love endlessly is a gift not freely given. He opens his eyes and welcomes them to this sapphire haven. Light cannot pierce through and he embraces this solace, this quiet, and this steadiness._

"I don't think I can ever forget you," she whispered. "Will you return?"

Like a coward he promised, like a coward he told her on the last night if she would wait he would protect her and come back one day.

"You know, in a way I am not sorry to see you leave. If you had to go on your own will I think that would have hurt me the most. But you leave to protect me…and so I gladly see you off because somehow I know you will survive," she said, tracing her fingertips down the column of his neck.

Still on his knees, the blood drops from his cheek into the snow and he closes his eyes and looks away. His shaggy hair hiding part of his face as he fights within himself to become that ruthless, unfeeling shell he once was. Was there ever a time he could have been with her? Perhaps that is why he fights. To find a way back to the place he felt most alive. She never questioned, never denied, and never gave up. Perhaps being stability to him was the destiny she was assigned. It was not his wish to taint her. The void she replaced became a part of him he can never forsake. And yet to become unworthy because of war, to become unworthy because of duty. The princess and the soldier, he did not wish to become tangled within her world and yet she came to be the center of his. Gripping his sword tightly he flings it over the cliff with a pained cry and places his right cheek on the snow gazing at the droplets of blood. The dullness of his eyes, unseeing and empty. He wishes to see her again but that is a part of his life he cannot return to.

_ He cannot leave her, won't leave her to face the atonement on his own. Peace only to receive turmoil, rest only to awaken. And so he falls deeper, the urge to escape as strong as the current pushing them further down from the glare. His sacrifice eminent. His salvation approaching as the air creeps out from his lungs and he suffocates. Coughing, reaching, he slides away. Groping for something solid to cling to and yet he is denied as he was denied everything in his life. Panic rises up through him but then he feels the soothing warmth of her hand on his arm. _

Tears well up in his dark eyes and run down his face which has become motionless once again.

_ He can see her face clearly now. A man with more courage than he knew, to find that she never left him, even in the final moments of his life, that can be called true happiness. The softness of her deep blue eyes, the forgiveness that is all encompassing and for the first time he is not afraid._

Perhaps one day, when he has forgiven himself, they can meet once more.


End file.
